My Poetry. What hope do they have?

A desolate, wasted land with hardly any hope,
Parents cling to their children, struggling to cope.
Uncertain moments in these catastrophic days,
Desperately hoping for help to change their ways.
What can they possibly do? Where can they safely go?
Every wrong turn sends their weary spirit low.

Men with sudden guns decide who will be next;
No time to breathe, let alone pause to send a text.
The vital airport is shut, when can they truly go free?
Frightened civilians all huddle, running to and fro.
Bombs detonate, and people are instantly killed;
Limbs are detached, and the cold streets are blood-filled.

A people burdened by hardship, fear, and no hope,
Waiting for distant Governments to dangerously tighten the rope.
Families live in constant terror, locked inside their walls,
Huddled in dark, silent rooms, sleeping upon the hard floors.
Dreading the heavy tap, the violent knock on their doors,
Dare not answer now, for the crushing fear they will die—
Accused of collaborating, branded as a despised spy.

The world looks on as disaster becomes the norm,
When will this endless, brutal catastrophe end?
No matter what fragile, powerless Government they form,
The suffering only continues, with no one to defend.